


Terry Fieldmouse

by RedChucks



Series: Children's Boosh Stories [1]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Gen, children's story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 08:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19225021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: This is a Boosh inspired story that I made up for my kids a while back. I actually thought it was lost forever, then found the notebook where I'd scribbled the original draft of it. I decided to post it so that I don't lose it for good.





	Terry Fieldmouse

It is time to hear a story. Yes, it’s story time, story time. So make yourself comfortable and settle in. This may involve a blanket or a cuddle toy or a drink of milk or some chocolate. I like chocolate. Unless you’ve brushed your teeth already... have you brushed your teeth? 

And do you truly believe in stories?

Anyway, once you’re comfortable, we shall get on with the story.

And the story is about a little mouse. Their name is Terry. Terry Fieldmouse.

Now, Terry Fieldmouse has been around for a long time, a very long time in fact, but no one ever believed them when they told people because they was so very small. And: “Only the young and silly mice have blue hair,” the other creatures would say. And: “What sort of grown-up mouse plays with paints?” the other creatures would ask. “No mouse with any sense would go so near the humans,” they would scorn.

For this was exactly what Terry did. 

But they didn’t go near just any old humans, oh no. Terry only ever visited one human place.

You see, long ago, Terry had been the pet-friend to a little boy. He had been a funny little boy, always making up stories and patting them and tickling them and brushing their hair. He loved that Terry’s hair was blue and he loved that they liked to draw and paint, because he did too. And they were the very best of friends.

But then, one day, the little boy had to go out. This happened quite often and so at first Terry wasn’t worried. He always came back in the end. But he didn’t. The little boy’s parents always remembered to feed Terry but there were no cuddles or smiles or stories. The parents looked sad.

So one day Terry decided there was nothing left to do but to go and find their boy. They packed a picnic basket with everything they thought they might need: a flask of tea, some jelly beans, colouring pencils and paper, and a warm knitted blanket they had been going to give to their boy for his birthday. And when that was done they set off into the big, human world to find their best friend.

Now, it is a well known fact that mice have very sensitive noses - they can smell cheese crumbs from two blocks away. But Terry could not only smell the cheese, they could tell you whether it was gouda or brie as well. They had a very powerful little sniffer and it wasn’t long before they smelt, very faintly, a smell that reminded them of the little boy.  
It was the smell of morning cuddles and talcum powder and cherry flavoured lolly pops, and grass stains and pencil shavings, and mashed potato and Lego that’d been left out in the sun. All of that, jumbled up together inside a pair of striped pajamas and socks with holes in them. That was their little boy’s smell.

Terry followed the smell, careful to stay out of sight, until they had scampered up through a big building to the third floor. It was a strange building, with lots of very strong, and sometimes not very pleasant smells, but Terry made it eventually, following the scent that was unlike any other, to a corridor painted with colours that were meant to be cheerful but didn’t always feel so.

At the end of the corridor was a room with six small beds, and in each was a sleeping child. Terry had spent so long searching that the day had ended and the night had come, and it was quite dark in the room. But they still knew which bed belonged to their little boy.  
They scurried over and climbed up carefully until they was perched on his chest. They looked at their friend and noticed that he looked more pale and thin than they remembered, and he didn’t look very well. 

Terry wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek, or a cuddle, because they had missed him so much, but they didn’t want to wake him either. But just as they were climbing down, the little boy’s eyelashes fluttered and he opened his eyes.

“My mouse!” he whispered excitedly.

“My boy!” Terry squeaked in reply.

Then he took Terry in his arms and held them tight and they both slept soundly through ‘til morning.

Terry did not leave their boy’s side after that, though they still hid from the grown-up humans because, despite the fact that mice are very tidy and clean creatures, most grown-ups don’t seem to understand, and Terry didn’t want to be chased away with a broom just because they had whiskers and a tail.

The little boy couldn’t do very much. He showed Terry his large scar and he cried when the doctors came to poke and prod. So it was Terry’s turn to tell the stories and - Oh! what stories they told! - and they brushed his hair and put ointment on his scar to help it fade until it could barely be seen at all. And they held his hand when he felt sad and sick and grey.

And when their boy was sleeping, sometimes Terry would visit the other children as well. They told them stories, and the stories the little boy had used to tell as well, and sometimes Terry gave them jelly beans, and sometimes they gave them cuddles.  
Sometimes the other children got better quickly and went home before Terry even had time to learn what their favourite flavour jelly bean was. Sometimes, they didn’t. Some of the children couldn’t eat jelly beans at all, and so Terry sang them songs instead. Silly little word puzzles that sounded the way sweets taste.

Terry loved to see the children smile, because children were the most amazing creatures they had ever seen. But when they couldn’t smile, Terry tried to let them know that that was ok too. Because no one can be happy all the time, and Terry was still there to love them no matter what.

The little boy got to leave the hospital eventually, but every time he had to go back Terry went with him. And eventually the little boy did grow up. But because he knew Terry he never forgot what was really important. Things like smiling and stories and colour and music and friends and helping people not be sad anymore. You know, the truly important things.

But he didn’t need a pet like Terry anymore, not like the other children did. So Terry moved into the little park next to the hospital. They set up a pretty little home in the base of a tree that was full of pictures and brightly coloured wool and a great, big jar of jelly beans. 

And every day they crept into the hospital with their basket of important things to visit the children and make them smile. Some they only met once, others they got to know very well and loved just as much as their first best friend. Little girls and little boys and little in-betweens, little people of every kind, knew and loved the small blue mouse who none of the grown-ups ever saw. 

Sometimes the children couldn’t quite remember Terry, or thought they had been a dream, because surely a mouse with blue hair who sang songs and ate jelly beans was the stuff of dreams and fantasy. 

But even if Terry Fieldmouse is just a story, they are as real as anything I should ever want to believe in. And if you are still not sure, simply ask the other creatures and they shall tell you (though they don’t really understand them) about the Fieldmouse with blue hair and paint in their whiskers, who never grows old and who’s ever so small, and who was once a pet to a little boy who grew up but kept telling stories and never stopped. They will point you in the direction of the cozy little home in the old tree. And if you go and you knock and there’s no answer, well, at this time of day, they just might not be in. But that’s no reason not to believe in the important things.


End file.
